


Werewolves Can Love Too

by hoars



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Home Intruder, Laundry, M/M, Things Happening Behind the Scenes, Urban Legends, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-28
Updated: 2013-06-28
Packaged: 2017-12-16 11:45:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/861625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hoars/pseuds/hoars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Home intruders should really know better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Werewolves Can Love Too

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the Humans Can Lick Too urban legend, which is awesomely creepy. This? Not creepy. But it is finished so it gets posted!

Stiles meets Derek at the twenty-four laundromat at in two in the morning.

Stiles is washing two weeks’ worth of clothes because his daylight hours are precious and dominated by work. He doesn't like doing laundry. He doesn't know anyone who does. It involves sitting and waiting. Two things Stiles had never been very good at. But he ran out of clean socks and towels, so he grabs a book and the laundry.

He's there for twenty minutes when someone else comes into the laundromat. Peeking over his book, Stiles watches in appreciation as the newcomer opens a giant washer and stuffs an entire duffel bag of mostly dark clothes in along with detergent. The man is stupidly attractive. Stiles can feel his brain cells slipping away from him. He's beautiful with sharp cheekbones, fair skin and dark hair. He's too far for Stiles to make out his eyes, but his physique is enough to salivate over. The guy is _built_. Like Stiles can easily imagine this guy escaping from Dr. Frank-N-Furter's lab. _Jesus_.

He gets caught looking.

Which totally isn't his fault. Remember where he said the guy was stupidly attractive? Stiles meant it, okay? So, so, so stupid. The guy smirks. All smug in his hotness which isn't supposed to look good on anybody because humility is where it's at but increases Stiles' lust for the guy's body and face all the same. Stiles may be drawn to "I'm a smug evil asshole" personality types. It would explain his past relationships. _A lot,_ now that he thinks about it.

Huh.

"Can I use some of your fabric softener?" Mr. Hot Smirk asks.

His voice isn't the rocks in a trash can Stiles is expecting. It’s softer and gentler than that. Like Stiles’ _fabric softener_. A voice that soothes and reads poetry and turns intelligent people like Stiles, who graduated with academic honors from Berkley, into lust zombies.

" _Yes_." Stiles strangles the word, but he isn't too embarrassed by it. Mr. Hot Smirk doesn't seem surprised but faintly amused.

That's how they first meet.

And keep meeting.

It's always late at night when Stiles has run out of clean clothes. Mr. Hot Smirk comes in twenty minutes to an hour later it seems just to ask for fabric softener. And okay, Stiles buys the good stuff that makes his clothes smell like fields of manly flowers, he understands, but that doesn't explain Mr. Hot Smirk decisively taking his softener without asking and sitting in front of Stiles expectantly, an eyebrow raised.

Or how it leads to Stiles bent over a folding table, begging Mr. Hot Smirk to fuck him harder while they wait for the dryers.

Or how it leads Mr. Hot Smirk folding laundry next to him after the post orgasm daze and dryers have gone off.

Or how Stiles takes Derek home and doesn't let him leave for three days.

At least Stiles knows his name now, right? Which is Derek. Derek the laundromat _god_.

Their romance is whirlwind fast. Stiles is unnerved how fast. Stuff like this doesn't happen to people like Stiles outside of cheesy rom-coms. Although it totally should. People Stiles know how to appreciate it properly and to thank the universe everyday for their blessings.

Derek is perfect.

Derek works as a mechanic. He calls his family every Friday like a dutiful son. He works out and eats moderately healthy. He knows how to cook. He's a little bit of neat freak when it comes to the kitchen and bathroom otherwise he's a cozy messy. Derek is a man of few words with dry humor that startles Stiles into laughing. Derek is a man Stiles can't stop kissing.

In short, he has a job, no epic family drama, they live comfortably together, he listens to Stiles, makes him laugh and loves kissing Stiles as much as Stiles does him.

"Fuck, you're so beautiful." Stiles whispers reverently.

"You drive me _crazy_." Derek whispers back as harshly as his voice allows.

Stiles is weirded out that he found a man with minimal issues and no bizarre what the fuck kinks. Derek hasn't asked Stiles to pee on him once like his last too perfect on the surface boyfriend did. But he isn't going to question the universe on this one.

Derek moves in after a few weeks of laundry dates and real dates and a lot of sleeping together. It seemed prudent. More fuel efficient at least.

Stiles' apartment is a one bedroom on the edge of town. Really, his apartment is toeing the line of the preserve. It's why they are so cheap. Too many curious and hungry wild animals bothering the residents and not enough people broke enough to stay regardless of the wild life contingency plans posted everywhere in the halls next to the emergency evacuation plans. Derek loves it. Wild animals and all.

"I like it." Derek says simply. "I prefer animals over humans."

"But I'm your favorite, right?" Stiles asks.

"You're squirrelly enough." Derek teases.

"Shut up. You're the worst. I don't know why I like you." Stiles grouses.

"Liar." Derek smirks looking too pleased with himself.

"No one likes you." Stiles grumbles. "Stop looking like that."

"You're lying." Derek sing songs. "And you love my face."

Stiles really does, but Derek has enough leverage over him. Not that Derek seems to need to hear it. He just assumes or something. It was awesome while Stiles looked for the balls to tell his live in boyfriend he loves him, his boyfriend just _knows_. Derek's special bullshit detector has saved Stiles from a lot of relationship drama. The fights they have had where in the heat of the moment Stiles shouts something he regrets the instant it leaves his mouth are already three instances. Thank fuck Derek somehow senses Stiles' instant remorse and softens instead of leaving.

Stiles is very glad Derek hasn't left.

They're sickeningly domestic in the time they've been together. They kiss each other hello and goodbye. They share fleeting touches every time they pass each other in the kitchen, hall, living room, everywhere. They share a few comfort rituals, but the most important one is their night ritual.

Derek has nightmares he jerks awake from. Panting and sometimes heaving. He never answers when Stiles asks. Not really. Stiles knows when he's being misdirected and distracted, but he lets it go. Comforting Derek takes precedent. Derek always calms after a few minutes resting his cheek against Stiles' sternum. Stiles simply has trouble sleeping. Insomnia from the Adderall and ADHD. Derek helps soothes him four out of seven nights and six out of seven nights when Stiles does wake up, Derek can pet and kiss Stiles back to sleep.

Derek and Stiles are interwoven now, and Stiles wouldn't have it any other way.

Derek starts acting a little strange on a Wednesday. He gets a phone call from his sister and starts behaving a little, _odd_. Derek keeps glancing out the window, towards the woods. He closes all the windows and latches them closed. It's not odd-odd but Derek uses the windows like doors. Derek likes his door options.

He gets progressively weirder. He walks Stiles to his Jeep and asks (and Stiles uses the word ask loosely) Stiles to text him when he gets to work and when he leaves. It's a little overprotective but nothing Stiles can't handle semi quietly for another week. Stiles' dad is the overprotective sheriff. He's used to it a little.

By Friday, Stiles isn't even a little surprised when Derek stays home sick from work to spend the day curled around Stiles, glancing darkly at the windows.

Stiles puts them to bed early because Derek is going to give Stiles whiplash with how often he suddenly moves to look out a window. Stiles settles with a book about historical badasses to read as quietly as he can. He's Stiles, okay? He can't go through life quietly or he'd explode.

"What do you think Alexander the Great would have done if he survived?" Stiles slurs.

His vision is bleary and he's so warm. He can feel himself falling asleep, the book falling closed on his fingers and cheek. Derek hums softly, a soft sound full of contentment but rough like a growl.

"Go to sleep." Derek orders, putting the book on the bedside table and tucking Stiles closer to his body. Drowsily, Stiles makes the promise to tell Derek he loves him in the morning. Derek _really_ deserves to hear it from Stiles.

He dreams. He must. Everyone dreams in the REM cycle.

The first time he wakes up Derek is a tense line across his back, growling. Derek immediately shushes him, trying to sooth Stiles back to sleep. Stiles goes easily, not even remembering why he woke up.

The second time he wakes up, Derek is gone. Stiles distantly hear movement in the next room. He wants Derek. He whines a little, missing the comforting heat of Derek's body. Derek comes back into the room quick.

"Shhh. It's okay. Go back to sleep." Derek pets Stiles, the movement lulling him back to sleep.

The third time he wakes up, it's to a giant crash. Stiles jerks awake, terrified. "Derek?" He calls out. He's missing again. The space next to Stiles long cold. What if Derek is hurt?

He waits a long tense second before Derek appears in the doorway. It's dark. Too dark to see Derek's features but Stiles has studied Derek for months. He can see the relaxed set to Derek's shoulders. How sheepish he is.

"Sorry, babe." Derek says. "Tripped and brought down the kitchen table. And put a hole in the wall."

"What?" Stiles grumps, panic fleeing and leaving him drained. "You what?"

"Don't worry about it. I'll fix it. Go back to sleep." Derek comes close and leans in to kiss Stiles.

Stiles debates throwing a fit about the hole in the wall or sleeping, but he works tomorrow and he's had a disruptive night. Derek said sorry and that he'd fix it. Whatever. He kisses back.

"Don't be too long."

Derek smiles. A flash of _something_ in the dark. Stiles is too out of it to pinpoint what it is about that smile that makes him uneasy. "Go back to sleep."

"Stay." Stiles changes his mind, feeling an ache at falling asleep without Derek.

 He is a ridiculous thing.

Derek crawls back into bed, smelling like sweat and blood. Before Stiles can ask, Derek supplies an answer. "Cut my hands up. I'm fine."

Grumbling slightly, Stiles settles back down again. Hopefully for the last time. He falls back asleep quickly. He really is exhausted. Bone tired. The bed too big without Derek but perfectly too small now that Derek is stretched next to him.

He slips back to sleep, smelling Derek and their fabric softener.

Stiles wakes up reluctantly. The sun is barely shining in their room and the bed is cold again. Stiles is a little grumpy about Derek missing again. God damn. The guy couldn't keep his ass in bed for a couple of hours? Stiles understands Derek's a night person but last night was ridiculous. There's a scratching sound. The sound that woke Stiles up.

It sounds like bristles against tile.

He needs to pee first. He stumbles to the bathroom to the music of a scrub brush. He's on autopilot until he sees his reflection in the mirror. His face--

His mouth--

His face is bloody.

Where Derek kissed him last night is bloody impressions of his lips.

Curious and worried more than pissed, Stiles goes looking for Derek.

He notices the holes in the walls first. The gouges in the floor. He's so not getting his deposit back. The kitchen table is splintered. Pieces of it broken like cheap firewood all over. Derek is on his hands and knees, a blue bucket next to him. He's scrubbing the floor with determination and a ton of elbow grease. Derek is scrubbing _blood_ from the floors.

"Derek?"

"Stiles." Derek puts the brush in the bucket. "I have to tell you something."

"Like what you did with the body?" Stiles' mouth says without permission.

"Besides that." Derek smiles showing off his teeth. He approaches Stiles with light, uneasy steps. He looks unsure of Stiles and his heart gives a pang. Derek should never look at Stiles like that. He's so close now. Stiles can see flecks of blood around his mouth. He tore someone's throat open with his teeth, Stiles thinks hysterically. "Werewolves love too."

"Werewolves?" Stiles says faintly.

Derek's eyes turn Christmas light blue suddenly and luminously. He cups Stiles' cheek, thumb stroking. "Werewolves." Derek repeats, his fangs flashing around the word. Derek has _fangs_. Fangs he used to eat someone last night. Oh boy. Stiles' good fortune is suddenly completely understandable. His boyfriend is a _werewolf_.

The thing is--

"I love you."

Stiles has always been the type to appreciate what he has.

(Even if apparently what he has is hot werewolf mechanic live in boyfriend who loves his family and Stiles with extreme violent tendencies towards home intruders. Derek's still pretty perfect.)


End file.
